Wow, this immigration thing is getting serious for you brits? I get that you’re feeling uncomfortable in your own country and many of you don’t seem to fully understand why you’re feeling so uncomfortable.

What do you people want? I can hear what you DON’T want. You don’t want foreign languages spoken on YOUR streets. You don’t want Eastern Europeans taking your jobs. You don’t want to do business with Europe. You don’t want to lose the Scots. Some of you don’t want gays to get married.

It seems like a lot of you are drowning in nostalgia, kidding yourselves that you can reclaim some beautiful ideal England. The bucolic lie we tell ourselves England once was: White faces, full employment, strict adherence to the class we were brought up in… Is that what you want? I’d genuinely like to know.

Tell me what you want. Tell me what this great british utopia looks like… once you have kicked out all the Romanians, the eastern Europeans, the muslims, the jews, the homosexuals… once you have purged your cities of indian, chinese and mexican restaurants… once your boarders are iron curtains with strictly regulated tourism… in and out of your country. Is that what you people want? I really have no idea when I hear UKIP and their supporters… what the end game is?

If British people bothered to learn and speak other languages (like the UKIP leader‘s wife learned English) they might feel happier taking advantage of the free movement of labour within the EU. But let’s face it, the basic brit is a retarded xenophobe who blames anyone but himself for his woes.

Oh, and here’s a picture of a foreigner with big tits to grab your attention.

I wanted to post a few pictures. I want to remind myself that it has all been an incredible journey.

I wanted to include this one because I have a man’s legs wrapped around my shoulders. He is called Chris Boot. He was in South Africa with Tilda Swinton. Tilda came to the dinner thrown for me at Sundance when AKA played there. She came with Jamie Johnson.

Boom Boom Boom (The Sublime) 1982 Peter Doig

You can see half of the Peter Doig painting I bought at his St Martin’s degree show. It hung in my Furlong Road, Islington sittingroom until I was arrested. At which point Doig decided to snatch it back and I never saw it again. It is probably worth in excess of $1, 000, 000 now.

I’ve written loads about Jay Jopling in this blog. This is the night he met my sister Jessica.

Justin Lee-Aliston was my best gay friend in Whitstable. He was the sweetest boy. He killed himself a few months after he was gay bashed in Camberwell South London. Here he is in happier times with my friend Tracy at the Island Wall, Whitstable house.

Celia Lyttleton, I can’t remember where we met but she is a doll and this picture was taken at a fancy dress party at the artist Glynn Boyd Hart’s house during the 1980’s.

Celia introduced me to the artist Ana Corbero at her Albermarle St gallery. She in turn introduced me to Colin Cawdor , the Thane of Cawdor-Macbeth. Duncan and Macbeth in NYC, in a sprawling apartment in Williamsburg. Long before anybody else was living there.

Our view.

Colin and Anna. Now, Colin lives in the North of Scotland in his castle, a castle he had to wrestle from his step-mother. Ana lives in Spain with her husband. I remember that he dressed Ana in Azzadine Alaia-and the moths ate clean through her fur coat.